Blue Fire
by Windflicker
Summary: Best friends Squirtle and Charmander roam the forest together, until one day when Charmander is captured by an evil trainer. The two must find each other again, and, together with some new friends, defeat the sinister web surrounding the trainer...
1. Chapter 1: Captured!

**Chapter One: Captured!**

The door slammed shut with the echoing _clang_ of metal against metal, sealing the young human girl inside the spacious room, where she stood, alone, on the hard floor. She hardly flinched at the loud noise, pursing her full, cracked lips and fixing her eyes stiffly on the pattern of rocky tiles before her. Instantly, the raw determination inside her reared its head back and began to cackle in satisfaction, the burning, gleeful sensation that the place always instilled in her surging through her veins like sharp acid.

The room was cold, the air seeming to vibrate in unsettling, tiny motions as it always did. It filled anyone who entered with an inexplicable unease, for the miniscule movements caused them to shiver instinctively as their subconscious registered the change. They themselves could never place it, this feeling that was so eerily unlike the warm stillness inside most indoor rooms. And this…this was without a doubt a strange one.

The building could only be called a fortress, a bizarre place for anyone, any person, to inhabit. She couldn't speak for the Pokemon. The structure loomed toward the sky in a winding spiral of rock encased in metal, the two strongest materials anyone knew, offering protection against essentially all types of Pokemon. Metal—steel—was one of the strongest defenses against all the elements, but it still had its weaknesses—the heat of fire, ground, and the sheer strength of fighting. So the fortress had installed a second defense—solid, unbreakable rock. The girl smiled. It was nearly invincible. Flawless. So brilliant, it deserved her high praise that evenshe _herself_ could have conceived of it.

She had treaded up the long, twisting staircases of the tower, her strides clacking jarringly against every stone step through the dark, narrow, torch-lit corridors. Portraits of various types of Pokemon were hung on the cobblestoned walls, and as she strode past each one, she liked to imagine herself capturing it, holding the Pokeball in her hands, taking control of its powers. She had passed a few other minions on her way up, and each of them had quickly averted their eyes and lowered their heads in fright, quickening their pace as they passed her. Her mouth curled in satisfaction at the thought. She was very high-ranking, so close to the Skipper.

_Click._ She flinched, then, annoyed at the petty noise that had interrupted her ever-important train of thought. A scowl curled across her lips, a pout that snarled without words her irrepressible desires and hinted menacingly that they were almost always fulfilled.

"So!" uttered the voice without a face, seemingly emanating from the solid wall. It angered the girl that she did not know where it came from whenever she heard that click, causing whatever projected its words to switch on. What an arrogant person its speaker must be! For the longest time she had strained her ears and tried to decipher the speaker's identity from his or her voice each time she had a new report to make. But to her chagrin, its pitch hung somewhere just in between high and low, soft and undulating and seemingly volume-less—almost friendly, even—so that she could never place even the gender of the speaker, much less his or her identity.

It was no matter. She had to obey the silent, unspoken question the voice projected with that one word, and cough up the answer it demanded. If only _she_ had that power, she thought with disgust. _Arceus knows I deserve it._

"It's true, Skipper." The girl inclined her head in a false sign of respect. The voice called itself the "Skipper," a name that meant leader, commander, with a wry, appealing twist. "I've found it!" A note of triumph crept into her exclamation.

"So I was right," the voice marveled, satisfied. "I could _feel_ it in my skin, its heat, its energy. I…I can do that, you know. I knew it had happened." It chuckled. "Say, how _ever_ did you find it?"

"I _know_ where these things live," the girl fired back defiantly, prickling at the perceived offense to her abilities, which she deemed endless and magnificent. "I saw them together…and I _knew_ that must be the one. Obviously. No other Charmander ever hangs around with…with water so nearby."

"Well, isn't that great?" Skipper chuckled. "It's perfect. Can't you practically taste it, right in front of us? It's just the last piece now. So close…and then we'll have everything. And you can share it, too, of course." She heard a noise that sounded like a contented sigh. "Now you know what to do. _Obviously_."

The girl nodded firmly as a haughty smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. "Yes, don't worry. _I'll_ catch it." She thrust her hands into the pockets of her jacket and spun around, her hair flying behind her like a nest of snakes.

Without bidding Skipper farewell, for at her elevated rank, she did not need to, she unlatched the door and stormed outside. It clanked and clattered behind her, and the noise of her harsh leather shoes slapping against the stone floor seemed to echo the clash of the metal. She could imagine Skipper, shaking its head disdainfully at her impertinence, and switching off the device that amplified its voice through the wall. As the girl descended the endless flights of stairs, a new resolution in her gait, the fire she sought seemed to burn unquenchably in her own body, doused by no measure of the cool spring air outdoors, no measure of water.

* * *

The pond's surface, gleaming like a silver film that stretched from one shore to the other, trembled and rippled as gentle waves rose and crested above it. The reflection of the boulder above undulated and shattered with the flow of the water, the rough, craggy stone appearing to splinter into a thousand pieces that drifted lazily upside-down in the twin morning sky, constantly shifting, trapped delicately in the watery hold of the mirror world.

Without warning, a jet of water burst through the film, bubbling and shooting into the air in a whirling cyclone of foam. "_Ha!_" exclaimed a triumphant, burbling voice. A small blue figure hurtled out of the water, leaving a loud splash in its wake, and sprang onto the grass. It shook itself off and beamed at another figure, this one glowing bright orange, perched on top of the boulder.

"Good morning, Squirtle," the orange figure greeted in a shy, friendly voice, though the words in which he spoke were nothing that we humans could understand. They could only hear them as the syllables of the creature's own name, _Charmander_. The Charmander flickered and burned against the hazy blue of the sky.

"Morning!" Squirtle grinned. "How ya doin', ol' pal?"

Charmander yawned and unfolded his small, round, salamander-like body, blinking his large blue eyes. The sun paled in its yellow against the flickering scarlet flame smoldering at the tip of his tail. "Great, actually. _That_ was a nice wake-up!"

"Why, thank you." Squirtle raised his head proudly, curling the blue, furry tail that emerged from the bottom of his turtle shell. "I do try."

Charmander smiled, readied his legs, and with one spry leap, leaped from the rock and stuck the landing perfectly next to its watery friend. "Might as well start the day, then," he chirped brightly.

Squirtle and Charmander bounced past the lake, around the boulder, and into the sunlit trees of the forest. The morning rays dappled the path ahead with the fluttering pattern of leaves, dancing in the wind. The breeze swept past Charmander's flank, and he rejoiced in the sensation of freedom.

The two Pokemon had been living in the wild all their lives, traveling together ever since they had met. Charmander loved being able to enjoy the wilderness; he knew that humans journeyed often through these woods, trying to capture Pokemon of various kinds to train them. He had to admit that he was curious about what happened to those Pokemon—he heard that they lived great lives, that being trained by humans was a whole other kind of life that, though utterly different from living in the wild, didn't seem any less pleasant, according to what he had been told.

Squirtle was a little more skeptical about the human trainers; he needed, Charmander knew, to truly and fully respect a human in order to agree to travel and train with him or her. Charmander himself, too, cherished being out in the wilderness on his own, free to do whatever he pleased, and he especially liked spending the days with his best bud.

Charmander grinned at the thought; it must be weird, he mused, to imagine a fire Pokemon and a water Pokemon as being best friends. But he remembered the day they met, and the memory always brought the two of them to laughter.

Charmander had been foraging for berries in the forest that day, humming to himself as he scampered about the leafy bushes and over the roots of the trees. As he gathered the berries and popped the juicy, round fruit into his mouth, the scales on the back of his neck tingled unpleasantly. He froze, clutching a berry in his hand, and fear rose in the back of his throat. He felt as if he were being watched. Slowly, he swiveled his head around to spot a flash of blue behind a tree.

Reflexively, he threw his head back and howled, "CHAAARRRRRR!" Fire roared out of his open mouth toward the tree, and the blue figure jumped in shock and barreled away, its skin singed. Charmander raced after it, still hurling flame from his mouth as he ran, determined to find out what that blue thing was and what it had been doing.

"!" the blue Pokemon panted as he sprinted, terrified, dodging the flames that came surging at his back. Quickly, he dashed toward the pond—the same pond they had just come from—and dove in. Charmander gasped at the sight of the water, but it was too late—unable to curb his speed, he flailed his arms and plunged in after Squirtle.

The liquid bubbled and rose around him like a curtain, stifling, suffocating; he let out a muffled cry as the fire within him sputtered and slowly began to fizzle. The water was pressing in on him…heavy, so heavy…he felt as if he were trapped in the smothering folds of a deadly velvet cloak. His eyelids drooped…he felt his limbs give up the struggle and sag limply at his sides…and inside him, a deep ache, like ashes, burned excruciatingly as he curled his tail around his back and let go…the fire, fire, letting go…

And suddenly, his stomach lurched as a great force hauled him upward by his arm. Charmander gurgled in shock; the water rushed against him in a spurt of energy, dragging him back, reluctant to release its hold as he rocketed up. The viscous resistance disappeared as with one last heave, something launched him up and out of the water. Hearing the loud splash behind him, he soared through the air, and then slammed onto the ground with a violent thud. The impact reverberated painfully through his body, and yet he had never felt so relieved, so grateful for the sharp sensation it brought him. He crouched on the grass, unable to move, and raised his chin in awe, wondering what had saved him.

The Squirtle stood above him, dusting his hands, his violet eyes wide in concern as he peered down at Charmander. "Char…?" Charmander croaked weakly.

"You all right there?" Squirtle squinted and bent down.

Charmander panted, catching his breath, and then nodded. "Thank you," he gasped, finding the words. "You saved my life."

Squirtle waved his hand dismissively. "No problem, really, it was no big deal. After you almost burned my shell off, it was the least I could do." Charmander lifted his head in alarm, but he relaxed as he caught the glimmer of mirth in Squirtle's eyes.

"Yeah…sorry about that." Charmander slowly pulled himself to his feet. He felt all right again—nothing had been damaged but his fire, which was healing rapidly as the warmth of the sun rekindled the weakening flame. He lowered his head sheepishly. "I thought you were spying on me."

Squirtle shook his head, smirking. "Squirtle-squirtle," he admonished, wagging a finger in Charmander's face. Charmander's nose twitched; he jokingly exhaled a wisp of flame toward his finger, and Squirtle jerked away with a cry. The two stared at each other for a moment, and promptly burst into laughter.

They had been friends ever since that day, looking out for each other and journeying through the forest. They strolled side-by-side now, Charmander's tail flame bobbing and shining strong, as Squirtle whistled merrily next to him, his tail wagging with each step. The mountains rising in the distance cast a crisp-blue silhouette against the pearly clouds, and birds chirped cheerily around them. The leaves rustled as bug Pokemon crawled among the twigs and branches, the noises of life echoing all the way to the dirt. Charmander breathed in the balmy air and smiled. It was another ordinary, peaceful day in the forest.

"I'm going to see if there are any berries over there," Squirtle told him, pointing. "I'll be right back." He scampered away into the bushes. As he waited, Charmander curled himself on a rock nearby, basking in the warm sunlight and humming to himself.

Hardly a minute had passed before he heard an abrupt crash, followed by an alarmed cry of "SQUIIIIR-tle!" His eyes flared open as he sprang from the rock and bolted without moment's hesitation into the bushes where Squirtle had disappeared. Thorns grazed his skin, but he barely noticed. His friend needed him!

Charmander gasped as he broke through the nest of brambles and stumbled into the clearing where his friend stood. Squirtle stood face-to-face with a massive Ekans. It bore down upon him and hissed, slithering its purple body into a coil, its forked tongue darting out. Squirtle clutched a handful of berries, shaking; he had backed into the bushes, and now, cornered, he gazed up at the Ekans with his mouth open in terror.

"CHAR!" Charmander leaped in front of his friend, drawing himself to his full height and glaring at the Ekans. It wavered for an instant, then doubled its fury as it descended upon him. Charmander braced himself, squeezing his eyes shut, and opened his mouth to launch a massive tongue of flame at the Ekans's face. It cried out in pain and thrashed blindly, throwing its head toward the ground.

"_Ekans, return!_" Charmander spun around, surprised at the piercing, girlish voice that rang out from somewhere in the bushes, its speaker hidden from sight. The Ekans disappeared with a flash of red light, and the voice hollered, "_Jigglypuff, go!_"

Out of the corner of his eye, he registered the sight of Squirtle waving gratefully at him and dashing away. As he watched his friend, zipping into the distance, out of sight, he wondered vaguely, _How will I find him later?_

But there was no time to think. Charmander turned back, his teeth bared, to face the pink, rubbery ball that blinked its huge turquoise eyes at him. It beamed, then, and began to sing.

"_Jiiiiiiiigglypuff…Jigglyyyyyypuff…_"

As Charmander summoned the flame in his belly, something felt off, suddenly, like he was losing coordination of his body as the calming music filled his ears. His tense, battle-ready muscles relaxed, and though he pushed harder at them, the attempt was futile. His eyelids began to droop. _No!_ he screamed at himself, but it was no use. His entire body relaxed against his will, soothing the heat of the fight into a warm, comforting candle-flame. He watched it flicker and wobble, back and forth, dreamily as if from a great distnce…

And the last sound he heard was the sweet, soothing melody, crooning from what seemed like far, far away…everything faded into a mere dream, a wonderful dream…floating in swirls and bubbles of soft pink…how…beautiful…

And then something small and round hit the side of his leg. He felt himself being pulled away, sucked into a powerful hole. The soft blanket of relaxation that wrapped itself around his warm body muffled all his cares and worries as he spiraled into a dark, spherical vortex. It greedily opened its great mouth and swallowed him, absorbed him—his energy—for he was nothing _but_ energy, swimming in a pool of darkness—swimming around and around—around and around, until the world around him faded, and all was black.


	2. Chapter 2: The Trainer

**Chapter Two: The Trainer**

Squirtle panted as he scurried through the forest, his stout blue legs clambering over tree roots and logs, crunching softly on the fallen leaves and the shoots that sprouted and unfolded their shy, light-green bodies over the soil. Thank _Arceus_ that Charmander had run into the scene and rescued him from that Ekans! _That little sneak owed it to me,_ Squirtle chuckled to himself. But all jokes aside, Charmander had without a doubt paid him back in full for the escapade in the pond. Squirtle would have to thank him later.

He paused and glanced over his shoulder. Where _was_ Charmander? Squirtle had fully expected his best friend to be skittering a few steps behind him, catching up as he, too, ran away. He skidded to a full stop and scanned his surroundings carefully, eyes peeled for the slightest flash of orange. He looked in one direction, then the other. Nothing.

"Charmander?" Squirtle whispered loudly. His friend _had_ to hear him. The forest was almost silent now. Too silent. "Charmander, you've got to answer me." Squirtle shivered. The eerie stillness wasn't right. Where was Charmander? Could he—?

_No,_ Squirtle told himself, laughing at himself. It was ridiculous; he had seen his friend in action. Charmander could take anything. Squirtle often teased him, yes, poked fun the way he always did, but he knew his friend's power—better, in fact, than ol' Charm knew it himself. Charmander could hesitate at times, unsure of himself, but Squirtle was confident that he was capable of handling anything. Anything.

_But it wouldn't hurt to check…_ Squirtle tilted his head, contemplating, and then heaved a sigh as he resignedly swiveled around and trudged back the way he came. _Charmander, you owe me for this one, buddy._

He retraced his steps in a slow, quiet tiptoe, creeping toward the bushes. Sniffing the air carefully, he suddenly caught a whiff of the berry juice he had smeared all over the leaves as he ate and spotted the red stains on some bushes to his right. _Right there._ Squirtle hurried forward and ducked behind the branches, peering through the leaves into the clearing.

Charmander was nowhere to be seen. But there was someone else where his friend had stood.

A young human girl with a mane of curly brown hair bent down to pick something off the ground. From where he stood behind her, Squirtle could only see her tangled locks, cascading over her shoulders toward the ground like a nest of snakes, and the slender back of her legs. He narrowed his eyes. _A human_. He had never had a very high opinion of those high-and-mighty creatures who believed the world was theirs, who believed that they owned the land and could do anything they desired with the Pokemon who inhabited it. _Well, bad news,_ Squirtle wanted to snarl at them, _it _isn't_ yours. It's just as much—no, _more _so—ours. And we're prepared to take it back._

But this was not the time; he could only hide and wait, wait for any sign of Charmander. This girl—who was she? Was she connected to Charm, somehow? He watched her intently as she stood and squealed triumphantly, bouncing up and down. He winced and covered his ears.

"Look! I got it!" The girl danced about and giggled, tossing her hair. "Oh, I _knew_ I would." With those words, her voice struck a lilting, arrogant chord. Squirtle grumbled under his breath. How irritating.

Without warning, he heard a rustle to his left and froze, slamming a hand over his mouth. His muscled tensed, ready to run if anyone—or anything—spotted him and wanted to attack.

But the human boy who emerged from the trees saw nothing and heard nothing else as he raced toward the girl and threw his arms around her, engulfing her in a smothering embrace. Squirtle gagged to himself as the girl simpered in return and held the object she had picked up out to the boy.

"Look what _I_ got," she announced.

"Oh, that's great, Mallie!" he exclaimed, and embraced her again. "You're so amazing. _So_ amazing." He gazed raptly down at her, his eyes swollen with sickening adoration.

"I know," Mallie cooed triumphantly. And as her lips met his, she turned to the side, ever so slightly, so that Squirtle could see the object she held in her hand, the hand now wrapped tightly around the boy's waist.

His stomach dropped. _No. _No, it couldn't be. This girl? This silly, self-absorbed girl? His body felt cold, choked with frozen dread, as if the water inside him had chilled to ice. Ice, the opposite of the red burning on the surface of that frightful orb, and the red that must be burning somewhere deep within it.

Charmander was curled tightly inside there somewhere, inside that small, spherical cage. Squirtle's heart sank. His friend was lost. Lost, he knew, inside the impenetrable walls of a Pokeball.


	3. Chapter 3: A World Within

**Chapter Three: A World Within**

The blackness and the hazy clouds that glided about lazily, like the swirls and blobs of light within a lava lamp, must belong to that of another dimension, with no concept of space or time. There they hovered, mere wisps of mist and clear bubbles that held various spirits, resting within the tiny orbs. The bubbles did not exist in space, no, but the Pokemon curled up inside them could not pass through the transparent walls; they hardened upon the touch of a Pokemon. The Pokemon drifted up and down in a constant, steady path, one enclosed in each bubble, as if the bubbles were pulled by invisible ropes sliding along an ethereal set of pulleys. And always all around them lay the endless expanse of darkness present all around them, like a starless, breathless night sky that did nothing, meant nothing, but simply _was_.

It was in this realm that Charmander awoke, blinking his bright eyes and rubbing his head groggily. "Wha…?" he muttered as he stretched his arms and yawned, his limbs infused with the relaxing energy of a good long sleep. He lowered his head, trying to remember what had happened. Pieces of memory spun out of the darkness at him: an Ekans…a pretty melody…

He flinched as his hand brushed a wall, stopping mid-stretch against the hard surface. _Where am I?_ he wondered suddenly, and raised his head.

Charmander gasped at the glorious sight before him. It was like nothing he had ever seen. He was resting in some kind of a glass bubble—but no, it wasn't glass—it was something completely different. The light of his tail-flame glowed and danced upon the clear, reflective surface. It glimmered and was soft underneath him when he curled up inside it, cradling his body seemingly without walls, and yet it changed when he pressed upon it. When he willingly pushed it with his hands and tried to pass through, the strange material soldified into a firm barrier, holding him back. He could not leave.

But beyond the "glass" he could see—a magnificent, infinite scape, like a night sky all around him, complete with shifting, shimmering curls of mist. Mysterious, tinkling notes chimed in the distance, or perhaps he imagined them. But somehow, it didn't have the same _quality_ as a night sky. Charmander couldn't put his finger on what it was that was so different from the world he had known all his life. And then he realized—night suggested time, the passage between days, and though Charmander couldn't describe it, this place somehow had no sense of time or even place. It hung still, a separate universe, and yet there was motion within it.

For the most marvelous sight to him was the sight of the other bubbles that floated by him, suspended in space. Leisurely drifting up and down, held by nothing but air, the bubbles passed each other, close enough that Charmander could lean forward, face against the rounded wall, and peer inside them. As he squinted and tried to make out the small figures huddled within the diaphanous orbs, it dawned upon him with a tiny flutter of joy that they were other Pokemon just like him.

He spotted a Chikorita, lying flat on its stomach, its leaf draped over its shoulder. In another bubble, a Pichu twirled around and around, seemingly oblivious to everything around it. He saw an Ekans in a third one, its head hung as its coiled body was wracked with uneven gasps, and suddenly remembered the battle, remembered launching the flamethrower and defeating the snake. _I beat that thing_, he realized. _It must be recovering now._ He felt a pang of sympathy as he watched it struggle.

In the last bubble was a Jigglypuff, bouncing up and down impatiently with a small baton-like object clutched in its hand. The sight of the little pink Pokemon jogged Charmander's memory…he had seen it just before he heard the song, and the song seemed to be what had led him here. But how? And why? Suddenly, he was bursting with questions. How had he come here? What were the other Pokemon doing here? And what was that _voice_ he had heard prior to falling asleep?

"Hello?" he called out tentatively, trying to reach the other Pokemon. "Can you hear me? I'm—I'm Charmander…can you guys help me?"

No response. The Pokemon's heads were turned away as the spheres continued to drift lazily before his eyes.

"Hello?" Charmander tried again, louder. "Please…can anyone help me?" A hint of desperation crept into his voice. "I don't know what's going on…please…"

None of the Pokemon answered. They seemed not to hear him, each lost in its own world.

Charmander hung his head and whimpered softly. There was no one there for him, even when they were so close in sight. He had never been so alone in his life, he was sure…even since the very beginning. He faintly remembered his family…his proud Charizard parents…the constant spouts of flame bursting around him as he and his loud, rambunctious siblings learned to control their fire…their family's joy at his youngest brother's hatching…his parents' pride as his sister evolved into a Charmeleon, the very first of the batch…

He remembered the day he had left the safety of his childhood home, that cozy cave in the hot interior of the mountains. He had bid a heartfelt goodbye to his parents, promising to visit all of them often, and left with his Charmander siblings. Once the young Charmanders and the young Charmeleon came of age, they all left the hot, rocky confines of the den to face the world on their own. The Charmeleon left to make her own life, while the Charmanders, as was their nature, stayed together.

Until that day…while they were on the hunt after a wild mouse, Charmander had wandered off…and become separated from his siblings. Terrified out of his wits, realizing he was lost, Charmander had been alone then. But his solitude was not meant to last. Shortly after he left the craggy mountains in search of his brothers and sisters and meandered into the sunny depths of the forest, he had met Squirtle. His jumpiness, his _fear_ had led him to the feisty blue Pokemon. His best friend. Yes, Charmander mused, he had always had Squirtle. They had always roamed the forest together…

And now, _now_, where was he? None of the other Pokemon seemed to want to explain. If only Squirtle were here with him; Squirtle could deal with this, he could put a spin of humor on the situation. But Charmander was alone. All alone. The confusion built inside him, and he felt trapped, suffocated. The walls pressed in on him and claustrophobia overwhelmed his body, his breath quickening as his hands began to tremble. The fire within him slowly crescendoed as he glanced around wildly for an exit, any kind of escape. He had to get out! What was he doing here in this strange world? Where was his comforting home in the forest? And Squirtle?

He was meant to be free! _Free!_ Fear and anger churned inside his stomach and erupted in a great boil of fury. Charmander reared his head back as the burning sensation within him rose to a terrifying peak and unleashed itself in a colossal blaze. As the glow of the flame simmered and disappeared, he saw with dismay that the bubble was serenely intact and unchanged, its shimmering surface mocking his pitiful attempt.

Rage flared up within him, hotter than ever before. _LEMME OUT OF HERE!_ he roared. He bashed his head against the wall and whipped it with his tail, the flame on its tip mounting to an inferno as it slammed again and again against the bubble. He beat his arms against the wall, his hands clenched into fists, then uncurled them and swiped at it with his claws. Finally, panting heavily, he stepped back and hurled another, final, flamethrower at the wall.

Out of energy, he sank down and gasped for breath. He felt as if nothing but a few sparks and a curl of smoke were left smoldering at the bottom of his stomach like a pile of scorched coal. Charmander raised his head slowly, and as he did so, he became aware that the eyes of the other Pokemon were now watching him intently.

"It's no use, you know," declared the Chikorita, sweeping her leaf aside. Charmander's eyes flickered upward at the sound of her voice. The little leaf Pokemon lifted her chin off the ground and fixed her crimson eyes on him.

The back of his neck twinged, as suddenly, Charmander sensed a movement around him that hadn't been there before. He turned to look outside the window. The other bubbles seemed to be breaking their peaceful, steady formation of parallel vertical lines, as if pushed sporadically to the sides, jostling in random paths and slowly converging toward him. The Pokemon inside, he noticed, seemed to be bumping against their walls, propelling the balls forward as they spun and wobbled closer to him.

_They can hear me now,_ he realized.

He heard a gasp. "It's a Charmander!" he swore he heard someone whisper.

_A Charmander Charmander Charmander…_ it seemed to echo.

"Yessssss, we all tried," hissed the Ekans in a hoarse, raspy voice. "You gave me quite a burn there, little Charmander."

"Oh…I'm…awfully sorry about that," Charmander murmured, still recovering from his surprise. His confusion temporarily squelched the memory of why he had attacked the Ekans. "Sorry, Ekans."

The Ekans bowed his head, and an amused smile played across his mouth. "It is no matter. Your attack was quite impressive. I am humbled."

Charmander smiled weakly and nodded in acknowledgement. He couldn't remember, couldn't think straight; he felt timid, nervous, _scared_. He wasn't sure what to say, now that he had the others' attention.

"Thanks…" he mustered, inclining his head to the Ekans, "but…but…what do you mean you tried?" Charmander faced each of the Pokemon in turn. "I don't understand. Where _is_ this? What are all of you doing here? What am _I_ doing here?"

The Pichu and the Chikorita exchanged a glance full of understanding. "He doesn't understand," the Chikorita sighed.

"Nope, he doesn't!" Pichu squeaked.

"Yeah, I don't!" Charmander snapped, his tail flaring in annoyance. "That's the whole point, isn't it?"

"Charmander…" Ekans stared at him with menacing yellow eyes. Charmander willed himself not to look away, to take deep breaths and stare back, holding the snake Pokemon's gaze. Seconds trickled by, and Charmander felt himself begin to relax. For as he peered into the black slits that were Ekans's pupils, he caught a glimmer of kindness, and beyond it, a haunting feeling that seemed to reach back into the very deepest confines of Ekans's mind, so deep that it must serve as the basis for all of his other emotions. It sent a chill down Charmander's spine, and he blinked, breaking the spell.

"Do you know why I attacked your friend?" Ekans asked.

"N-no, I don't!" Charmander stammered angrily, remembering. He clenched his fists. "You shouldn't have! Squirtle wasn't bothering you! That's why I attacked!"

Ekans shook his head sadly. "No…he wasn't. He wasn't at all."

"Then why—"

"You see, we aren't _free_, Charmander," a new voice chimed in. A sweet, lilting voice, one that would have bounced like the rubbery pink body that spoke it, had it not been so grave. The Jigglypuff tumbled and floated its way over to Charmander's bubble, juggling the microphone in its hands. "Not like you've been all your life."

"Not free?" Charmander echoed. It was starting to dawn on him, like something in the distance drawing closer and closer into his field of view. He could almost taste it, the answer to his questions. "So I've been captured…" And with a great jolt, he suddenly remembered—the voice, the command it issued, and he knew. His voice dropped to an awed whisper as the suspicion came to light. "…by a _human_?"

Chikorita nodded, satisfied, pursing her small mouth. "Yes, that's exactly it."

Charmander's jaw dropped; he gaped from one face to the next, his eyes widening. In all his time in the forest, he had always wondered what happened to those Pokemon who fell under the care of human trainers. All he knew was that they were cared for, taught the intelligence of humankind, trained to be stronger… But he never knew what really happened to them, _how_ they were obtained, how the humans kept them. He heard it was a good life, perhaps even better than living in the wild, though some, like Squirtle, had their suspicions. But almost everything he had heard had been positive—for humans gave Pokemon a gift, the gift of intelligence and strength, taking them as they were and treating them like equals, teaching them so they could be better. A burst of excitement flickered in his heart; now _he_ was one of them! _He_ would rise up to the challenge, would have the experience and learn all about what it was like! He was about to open his mouth and yelp with excitement, his hand readied into a fist to punch the air in joy.

But as he surveyed the circle of Pokemon surrounding him, something struck him as off. Something didn't match up with what he had heard. These four Pokemon—the Ekans, the Chikorita, the Pichu, and the Jigglypuff—did not seem like "most Pokemon." He tried to place it, to pin it down, the foggy feeling that deftly evaded his notice, like a mist creeping in on him that brought on an uneasy, damp sensation. Charmander despised dampness, all that was wet and cold. Faced with the cold, his flame would struggle to burn all the harder, sapping his life energy, his heat…

And then it struck him—the look that had gleamed in Ekans's eyes—the look that hung upon the faces of all the Pokemon before him—these Pokemon were _drained_, drained of their life force. They were exhausted and bound to a life they did not want, a life against their will. He noticed now that their faces were gaunt, drawn, worn beyond the normal conditions of their species. Jigglypuff had lost much of her puff; her pink skin was far paler and more sallow than most of her kind, and it had lost some of its rubbery sheen, stretching loosely around her perfectly spherical body. Chikorita's leaf was tinted yellow and brown, its very edges split and wilted like the petals of a dry plant. Ekans was missing several scales, chipped and broken down, and the skin on his face was ridden with wrinkles. Even tiny Pichu's fur, young as she was, was matted in wispy, shriveled tufts, discolored from its regular bright yellow to a shade vaguely resembling the color of mustard.

"Is…is there something wrong?" Charmander managed to question as he stared into their tired faces, a tendril of smoke trailing from his tail. It wafted upward and dangled in the air like a faded question mark.

The four Pokemon exchanged a heavy, meaningful look, and together, they began to speak.


	4. Chapter 4: Blazing A Trail

**Chapter Four: Blazing A Trail**

Always hunting, stalking, glowering ruthlessly from behind her greasy coils of hair, Malira Kozak's eyes sought the guiltless landscape around her in a fervent demand, prying its fields open with force and silently locking its woods in a merciless interrogation. The morning forest could not hide, the trees could not shield themselves from that malevolent glare—it pierced the gaps between the branches, between the shrubs and blades of grass, slicing through with unrestrained glee. Birds fled from the murky, beady irises that flashed with a feral glint, unforgiving, unsettling, unnatural. Her face was rendered cracked and artificial by the layers of makeup she plastered on herself, fashioning a tangibly hard shell under which she could hide in wait of something, some trivial, unsuspecting prey on which she would unravel her tightly coiled self—and pounce.

But this morning Mallie did not care about the world around her, for truly, she never did. All her smoldering, flaming concern was forever concentrated on one body: her own. Those flames lived to devour any love she could find, any gift that could be hers, any words she could twist and make her own. Any wishes of another person she absorbed to become her own, but only until she could churn them out of her mouth to lodge in someone else's skin, traitor blades of affection. And yet despite everything, in her young mind, she lived for nothing but to bring joy and love to the world.

_I am good,_ she told herself every day. _I live to light up another's life. I am selfless._ As she peered into her mirror and raked her fingers through her wild, unkempt mane each morning, she would set her jaw and gather her strength. _I am a victim, hurt and made vulnerable by others' cruelty. Victim. I. It is me._ With a final breath and a fully self-satisfied smirk, she would set down her brush and flounce away._ I am good._

_Good. Wonderful._ But words, mere adjectives, could not seem to describe her elation this morning, though she believed she harnessed their spellbinding capability in her control. Mallie smiled triumphantly now down at the perfect sphere she held in her grip, turning her eyes from the humble forest to focus on the single ball of red and white. She bounced the Pokeball once, twice, then clenched her fist around it. It was hers, rightfully, and what it cradled inside was crucial and valuable. Exactly what she needed, what she had been looking for. The last puzzle piece. The most important.

_Now it is complete,_ she thought as uncontrolled delight wracked her volatile body. _The powers of fire are mine. This Charmander…this special one…is mine._

A little skip crept into her gait. She arched an eyebrow and winked at the boy striding along next to her; he positively shuddered with pleasure. She laughed, bloated with contentment. He had not taken his eyes off her the entire time they had begun walking down the path again. Mallie simpered in glee as he wrapped his arm tightly around her shoulders.

"This little Charmander doesn't know what he's in for," she giggled, tucking the ball into her belt and watching not at all without satisfaction as the boy's eyes followed eagerly to her momentarily uncovered waist. Her voice rose and fell with a melodramatic lilt, ringing clear, girlish, and breathy. Oh, but she wasn't even singing yet—nonetheless, she knew, it was beautiful. _A Jigglypuff can't hold a candle to me._

"Well, he has the most _amazing_ trainer, that's for sure," the boy laughed, planting a wet kiss on her cheek and staring at her as if he wanted to consume her in one great, adoring breath. "I love you, Mallie. Don't ever forget that."

"I love you too, Robert," she cooed. "And don't worry." She swatted him playfully across the cheek. "I'll _never_ let you forget."

_Nor you, Charmander,_ she shot at the little creature inside the Pokeball, with another tiny giggle. _Perhaps I should start getting to know you now. Arceus knows we'll be spending _loads_ of time together._ She patted its smooth, warm surface, perhaps heated by the fire she now held in her control._ Now we can begin._

The second pair of eyes watching her—this one devoid of the slightest shred of adoration—was a sight that Mallie failed to notice as she sprang along the road, followed, unbeknownst to her, by a swift rustle in the bushes.

_So it's true,_ Squirtle thought grimly from behind the leaves as his last tatter of hope plummeted with a _thunk_ to the pit of his stomach. _She has Charmander…_

"Blast it," he cursed under his breath as he trudged along after the two humans. He had sworn to follow the girl like an enraged Primeape until he discovered what had happened to his friend. Now that he knew for sure, the knowledge seeped inside him and curdle in his stomach like filthy water he couldn't expel with the strongest water gun. It lingered, instead, and drenched him in profound sorrow. His limbs dragged heavily with the recognition that his best friend was truly gone, somewhere he could possibly never find him—and worse, Charmander was probably in danger. Without the bright orange form at his side, the air around him suddenly seemed strangely empty, drenched in the cold darkness that remained without the constant reassurance of a flame. Would he ever see Charmander again?

Squirtle hardly ever let himself wallow—he always had a convenient joke, a laugh, to quell any gloominess creeping up on him. But now, despair welled inside him like a slowly rising tide of molasses, and for once, hot tears threatened to pool from his eyes. He had never even realized how much Charmander had grown on him, had come to mean to him, how much he had begun to rely on his company and his warm, unwavering presence. The pain of his absence resounded as clearly to his core as if someone had picked him up and shaken him, shell and all. Charmander…gone…in danger…

The thought triggered something tough and defiant within him as his misery hardened into something like rage. _What is this, Squirtle?_ he asked himself, drawing himself to his full height. _Your best friend is in danger…and all you can do is sit here and _cry?

Squirtle set his jaw as a new spark of hope ignited within his chest and began to burn, blazing a bright trail, a beacon lighting his way to the fire of his friend. He gazed after the backs of Mallie and her boytoy Robert, and the determination solidified inside him like an unbreakable wall of stone. These humans were so out of place here, in the free, peaceful domain of the forest. They had come to cause destruction, to demolish Charmander's future and their home, a home full of countless free Pokemon living and thriving where they belonged. The thought filled Squirtle with mounting anger. Pokemon weren't _meant_ to live in the little cages clasped in the meddling hands of these petty fools. _Some_ humans, perhaps, but not _these_. Squirtle knew it instinctively, as strongly and clearly as he knew the realm of the waters. His realm. He quelled the urge to fire a water gun at them now.

Squirtle stormed forward, keeping his eyes fixed on the shadowy forms that intertwined like poisoned vines as they receded into the distance, and followed closely behind. He would _never_ give up his pursuit, not until Charmander was out of that Pokeball and free by his side once again.

_Don't worry, Charmander…I'll get you out!_

He puffed up his arms, scowled into the distance, and marched onward.


	5. Chapter 5: An Explanation

_Author's Note:_

_Hi everyone! Thanks for reading my story! I made a big change to the whole thing, changing the villain's name - now Malira/Mallie, if you were confused - and adding a whole prologue-ish section to Chapter 1. I suggest you go back and read that part, since it's kind of important. :) Also, I added a bit more to the part when Charmander is in the bubble all alone thinking about his family. Oh, AND, obviously, the title! Other than that, and some small edits, the rest of the story is pretty much the same. Here goes:_

* * *

**Chapter Five: An Explanation**

"Ahem." Ekans cleared his throat and gave his head a quick shake as if flicking off invisible fleas, readying himself to speak. "Charmander, do you know where you are right now?"

Charmander furrowed his brow and shook his head. He wondered diffidently if he should feel stupid for not knowing the answers to any of the questions the others directed at him. He decided it didn't matter, since he did anyway.

"This is called a Pokeball," the snake Pokemon explained. "This is what humans use to capture Pokemon. None of us know how a Pokeball works…it seems to change our corporeal forms into massless energy, and pull us into these tiny spheres that humans carry around all day. Once we are inside, we enter _this_ realm and somehow fit as bodily beings again, held inside these bubbles which in the real world are actually _pocket-size_. But somehow, they can hold us inside them…" Ekans blinked, and his yellow eyes carried a faraway look. "Really, these humans are incredible, with how they have become capable of harnessing the secrets of the world. There must be something about us Pokemon…something that makes it physically possible for them to do this." Charmander heard a hint of true wonder in his voice; Ekans _respected_ these humans and their intelligence.

_But wait…really?_ he marveled, gawking down at his own hands and attempting to imagine them as fluid, nonphysical pieces of mere energy. _I'm inside a tiny little handheld ball right now? Am—am I real, or not? How is this possible?_

"So that's what's happening to you right now, if you were confused," Chikorita piped up. "And really, we _should_ be happy. Life with humans is a good life. They care for us—the good trainers do, anyway—as they would a good friend; we are taken great care of. And even better…they _teach_ us to be greater than we ever would have been…infusing us with some of their own abilities intrinsic to the nature of humanity itself…their wisdom, their strength, and—and their ideas, their caring and love for others. We learn to be better Pokemon under their care and guidance. And we develop a bond, an unbreakable bond of friendship and happiness. It's truly remarkable."

Charmander listened, nodding all the while as the others explained to him the life he had never known. A twinge of unease still fidgeted in his heart as mixed emotions tumbled together in an unfathomable pool gathering at the bottom of his chest. What they said sounded so happy, so fortunate…and yet the way they carried themselves, the way they looked, even the way they spoke…it hinted at a giant "however" lingering in the distance. He forced down all his hopes at becoming greater, stronger, perhaps evolving…

It took Charmander a moment to realize that all of the others were looking expectantly at Jigglypuff. The small pink Pokemon nodded, her round body bouncing with the motion, and hopped to her feet in her bubble. It seemed she had the next line in the story.

She took a breath and began. "But you, I was this—this girl's first Pokemon," she declared, forcing the words out with some difficulty. "She captured me because she loved my special ability. My voice. You know that it is every Jigglypuff's pride and joy—it's our _life_." Her huge eyes shone with emotion, reflecting the tendrils of mist outside. "I was scared at first, as every Pokemon is, but I soon came to be excited for the life I now had ahead of me.

"The girl pampered me for the longest while. I thought she was the kindest trainer any Pokemon could ever have. She spoiled me, really. Gave me the best food, the fluffiest places to sleep, the best toys and care, even let me roam outside my Pokeball for almost all the time. You know we Jigglypuffs love to be indulged that way." Jigglypuff smiled and winked.

"But the best part is," she went on, "she would always listen to my song, however much I wanted to sing it. She would even bring her friends in—well, her 'friends,' they were always human boys that she lay on the bed with and…I don't know, hung around with while they listened. In fact, she listened to me so much that even when she fell asleep, I wouldn't draw on her face with my marker. She was so kind to me, it didn't feel right to do that, and I understood that she truly cared and never wanted to fall asleep while I sang. Or so I thought. And…well…that was how it began." She hung her head—her body, rather—and her smile flattened into a dull grimace. "I became weak. All the attention had gone to my head, and I stopped thinking I had to practice anything, any kind of attacks or even my singing. And then it wasn't enough for her.

"She had picked up much singing from me, but she thought it all came from herself. She laughed at me when I sang, then, and then even snatched my microphone from my hands and in her arrogance tried to teach me _how_ to sing." Jigglypuff's body began to swell as her mouth twisted into a scowl, her anger mounting. "Jigglypuffs do _not_ need, and should not, to be taught how to sing. We are born with the ability, and it is purely natural. But _she_ believed she was well beyond my level. And then…" She sighed, and her body seemed to deflate like a balloon pricked with a sharp pin. "Her twisted teachings so wrecked my abilities that I could _not_ sing anymore. Not the right way, at least. It stopped working." Her voice shook. The small pink Pokemon looked as if she were about to cry. Jigglypuff took a deep breath and tried to steady her trembling body. Charmander gazed at her with sympathy, his nose nearly pressed against the wall of the bubble in rapt attention; the others nodded their encouragement for her to continue.

Jigglypuff inhaled again, and her sweet voice calmed, but when she spoke again in a dark, low mutter, it was laced with scathing bitterness. "And then, of course, she had no further need for me. She took away my special treatment with no warning, and began to scream at me and throw me around whenever I made noise, even the slightest whisper that would interrupt her…_sessions_…with those boys. I don't know what they were doing. I don't understand humans." She shrugged and waved her tiny arm. "But finally, one day, she locked me inside my Pokeball. I was the only Pokemon back then…I had no one here with me." She gazed down at the floor of her bubble in dejection. "I know that most Pokemon spend their time in Pokeballs…but…the relationship between a human and her Pokemon is built on a special bond, and _above_ that…love and caring. I thought she loved me. And though I knew she never would again, I couldn't leave—that special bond still holds my loyalty no matter what. I cannot leave; she captured me, and I am bound to her. A—a Pokemon can leave, but there needs to be some kind of special _impulse_ for them to do so. Something that cuts through to the purpose, straight to their spirit. And sadly, she has not given me that.

"And so, nowadays," Jigglypuff concluded, "she lets me out to battle sometimes. But I am not nearly as strong as—as I once was…and I have lost my life force. A Jigglypuff with a broken voice? I am nothing." Her mouth trembled.

Charmander gulped. The story sounded horrible enough…but there was something he didn't understand. His heart churned with sympathy. "I'm so sorry…" he told her softly, "but…how—how did your singing work on me, then? I fell asleep…"

Jigglypuff fixed her brimming turquoise eyes on him, burning with a faint accusation. "I can still often make Pokemon fall asleep—especially someone like you, who has never been exposed to such an attack—but you should _know_ that that isn't why we Jigglypuffs sing." Her brow furrowed indignantly. "We sing because that is what brings joy to our hearts. Our gift, the gift Arceus granted us, is the gift of our voice, and it fulfills our dreams and purposes if we can use it well. A Jigglypuff naturally has its own unique voice, and to sing with it to its full potential—and to have others hear it—is what we were made for, is what leaves our mark on the world. I can no longer sing the way I was naturally gifted to. When I sing, I hear falsehood and twisted treachery in my voice…the voice of _her_, as she instilled it in me. Though I can't help but to feel joy when I sing, when I hear my own voice, it is a swift reminder of what I have suffered under her. It's as if I _carry_ it inside me." She inclined her head to Charmander. "I don't know if you can understand it, Charmander…but it would be as if in your ember, the heart of _your_ life…you saw buried in it, as what consumes and drives it, the reminder of what you hate the most and all your suffering."

_What I hate the most…_ Charmander wracked his brains. _Water,_ he decided instantly. _I hate water._ It was the opposite of his soul. If his flame were to be drenched, infused by water…? _Well…I would die,_ he reasoned. Two forces that were the opposite—one that destroyed the other, simply by nature—entwined together into one? It was bizarre to imagine. He shivered mentally at the notion. _It would be unbearable._

_But…loneliness,_ Charmander admitted to himself on second thought, _I also hate loneliness._ When he was alone, he felt desperate, lost, plain frightened, and he could practically sense his fire shrinking and cowering in despair somewhere in his belly. He remembered the feeling all too well, when he had realized that fateful day that his siblings were nowhere to be found, that for a moment, he was facing the world alone. Charmanders always hunted together in the wild, Charmeleons did not. Perhaps he would outgrow it.

Or…_or I have Squirtle_, he thought wryly. He mulled the thought over in his head for a few moments, and then returned his focus to the situation at hand. For, he understood, Jigglypuff had had no one.

He hung his head and nodded. "That would be awful," he agreed solemnly. "I'm sorry, Jigglypuff." In addition to the deep sorrow he felt for her, his knowledge of her story had ignited a new burning curiosity as he longed to learn more. More, so he could understand the life _he_ was obliged, bound, to have. "How did the rest of you end up here?"

"We all had similar experiences," Chikorita answered. "Jigglypuff was her first, though. She used her to capture the rest of us—there was Ekans, then me, and then Pichu. She seemed to be going after many different types of Pokemon. But…"

The leaf Pokemon suddenly looked uneasy, the buds on her neck bristling. She turned to glance around the circle, and Charmander saw that the rest of the Pokemon shared her air of disquiet, their eyes glistening and posing a difficult question into the darkness. There was something they didn't want to tell him, he realized. Small flames of apprehension leaped up inside him.

"What?" he asked, grasping his tail in his hands. The ever-present flame soothed his anxiety, as it always did. "What is it?"

Chikorita tossed her leaf back. "Well…we don't know," she admitted hesitantly. "That's the thing…we really…don't…know…"

"Oh, come _on_, guys, I'll tell him!" Charmander flinched at the unexpected squeak, as did the others, turning over their shoulders to stare at the baby electric mouse who had barely spoken until this moment. Pichu beamed at them and danced impatiently in her bubble. She rolled her eyes. "Seriously! I don't see why we shouldn't tell him…he deserves to know why he might be here!"

"Peach…" Chikorita cautioned in a motherly tone.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, 'we don't know for sure and there's no point in scaring him,'" Pichu mimicked in a hoity-toity voice that roused an involuntary bark of laughter from Charmander. "But when she first caught _me_, hey, I know I sure wanted to know. And Charmander does too! He has a right to! Come on, Charmander, you must be scared!" Her big dark eyes twinkled as she gestured enthusiastically in his direction. Charmander opened and closed his mouth like a Magikarp, realizing he had no idea how to respond. "It's so much worse to be scared because you don't know what in Arceus's _name_ is going on, than because you do."

"_Pichu_!" Chikorita admonished, shocked. "Don't use that language!"

"You can't really blame her, Chikorita," Ekans rasped, amused, "she spends far too much time listening to us talk."

Chikorita shot him a quick glare, and then turned back to her young charge. "Pichu, I don't know if you understand wholly what's going on," she chided in a calm, reasonable tone. "Maybe you should stay out of this…"

"Hey! Just because I'm younger—" Pichu protested angrily. "I know just as much as you do! We've been through the same things! I'm not any less capable of understanding than you are! In fact, you just watch, I'll probably evolve into a Pikachu soon." She stuck out her tongue and crossed her tiny yellow arms. "And _then_ you'll have to take me seriously!"

_Um…I have a feeling I shouldn't intervene in this,_ thought Charmander, curling himself up in his ball and watching the argument passively. His bubble sank down an inch as he leaned against the wall.

"She's right, you know," offered Jigglypuff. "We don't know any more than she does. And she's just as mature, considering we've all experienced the same things…"

Chikorita glowered at each of them and raised herself in a protective stance, her feet spread apart, shoulders forward, inhaling deeply. If she had hair, Charmander mused, he was sure it would be standing on end. Finally, the leaf Pokemon let out her breath in a hushed sigh as her body relaxed. She turned away, defeated. "Fine. Fine. Go ahead. Do whatever you want. I guess I'm just too protective of you, Pichu. It's just—now that we've all been taken away and—and we're all together here—we're like _family_. Pichu, you're so little, and you don't have your Raichu brothers to take care of you anymore…and…and…" Chikorita's voice quivered as she fought to maintain control of herself.

"It's _okay_," Pichu reassured her firmly. "I'll be _all right_. I'm not that little; I can take care of myself, you know, 'Rita."

Chikorita gazed at her for a moment, her eyes swimming, and nodded. "All right, then, Peach. I'm sorry…I guess I was overwhelmed by…by everything…since we were captured…but you go on, Pichu. You tell him."

Charmander swallowed awkwardly as they redirected their attention toward him. His mind was racing with the dispute he had just witnessed. Was he…was he going to become part of this—this makeshift family now, too? He knew the answer before his mind even finished the question, and it hit him with an array of mixed emotions. He was one of them, now…and he would be forever, unless his trainer ever let him go, and from what he had heard, that possibility seemed unlikely. No, he couldn't leave—for Pokemon weren't meant to abandon their trainers. He felt the irresistible pull already to the Pokeball, to the others, to the great black space around him. To his trainer, who for now was nothing but a mysterious _idea_ in his mind. He felt its presence nevertheless, like a spirit stranded somewhere out in the darkness.

_I am one of you now…_ The statement drenched him and seeped through his skin, reminding him powerfully of the water that had almost drowned him so long ago. Yes, it seemed like so, so long ago, so far away…and in a way, Charmander realized with a wave of shock, he was a newborn. A brand new Charmander, just hatched from his egg. He had a different life now. This was its beginning. That memory belonged to his other, former, life, never to return again. His home in the forest, a unusual home for the usual mountain-dwelling Charmanders, was gone. And so…so was Squirtle.

_Don't! Don't give up hope!_ his mind screamed at him. He scrutinized the other four Pokemon once again, his eyes darting from the Chikorita, to the Pichu, to the Jigglypuff, to the Ekans. He liked them, yes, but he had only just met them. They were as good as strangers. And now…now they were his family?

_But…but Squirtle is my family…_ Charmander had the strange desire to laugh at the irony as he realized that even Squirtle wasn't his _real_ family. His parents, though he knew he could find them anytime in the cave where they still dwelled, weren't expecting him back anytime soon. He hadn't seen them in a long while. And he could only clench his fists and grit his teeth and _hope_, hope fervently with all his heart, that he would someday see his siblings again.

_I know I will,_ he told himself fiercely. _I can't give up_.

Yet his thoughts still mostly lingered on Squirtle. He had to say goodbye to Squirtle? Was Squirtle looking for him? He must have noticed, by now, that his fiery friend hadn't followed him back from the clearing where they had met with the Ekans. Did Squirtle care enough to look for him? He knew the answer instinctively. _Yes, he does._ But was there any way that he _could_ ever find him?

_Stop it,_ he commanded himself sharply. He had to stop wondering about such things, questions that filled him with the reminder of his despair and would eventually suffocate him into hopelessness. He had friendly Pokemon around, and it would have to suffice for the time being. _You're here now. You need to deal with it. Perhaps…perhaps these Pokemon _are_ your family, for now. But it doesn't mean you have to forget about Squirtle, or your real family. You'll always remember Squirtle, won't you? And he…will always remember you._

"Hello? Charmander, are you even listening?" Pichu bounced her bubble so close to his that the two round, glistening surfaces almost collided. He dragged himself out of the deep pit of his thoughts and forced himself to absorb her words. The others were staring at him strangely. _She must have told me her entire story already,_ he speculated, embarrassed. And he hadn't heard a single word.

"S-sorry," he stammered. "I was thinking…"

Chikorita grimaced with sympathy. "You must be homesick…right?"

"I…well…yeah," Charmander admitted. "This is all kind of new to me. I don't know what to expect."

"Well, if you'd _listened_ to me, you might know by now," sighed Pichu, exasperated. "Anyway. As I was saying, starting from the beginning again, but don't expect it to be very flowery and eloquent this time over." She took a deep breath. "The human girl tried to capture all sorts of different types of Pokemon, which is very common with trainers, since it's good to have many strengths in battle. But during the time that we were let out of our Pokeballs…we started discovering strange things.

"She tried to hide it from us, keeping us blindfolded and only letting us out at very certain times and such, but Jigglypuff saw by accident once when she was outside that she was in some kind of—something that looked like a weird metal room with all kinds of odd devices in it. They looked…mechanical and, well, what's that word…" Pichu squinted. "Tecky-lonical."

"Technological," Jigglypuff corrected. She sighed. "And I sure got punished once she realized I had seen that. But it almost looked like…a lab of some sort. She really didn't want me to see it."

"Right," Pichu agreed. "A lab. It must have been important. But that's not all. One day, Ekans's Pokeball wasn't all the way shut or something…I think he got his tail lodged in the opening."

"And you bet it hurt." The snake Pokemon winked.

"It wasn't closed, so Ekans could see a crack of the outside world, and more importantly…he could _hear_. He heard her talking to someone else—we don't know who—and she was talking about…about _you_, Charmander."

"_Me?_"Charmander was stunned speechless. All the while, he had assumed that the girl was an ordinary trainer with a mean streak, who simply wanted to collect Pokemon to use in battles. But…she had _planned_ his capture? It didn't make sense to him. The way they had encountered each other in the forest—no matter how he pondered it, it seemed like a perfectly random meeting to him. He had barged into the scene to rescue Squirtle, after all….she hadn't even found _him_. What could this girl possibly want with a wild Charmander like him?

"Yes, you. Well, a Charmander…and not any Charmander, but a special one. We don't get it, either." Pichu shook her head. "She said…she said you were really important, and if Ekans remembers right, something about needing your fire. She said you were the last piece to use to complete some plan. The most powerful." Pichu shrugged. "And then, a few days later, you showed up here. A Charmander, just like she wanted."

Charmander's mind reeled. He suddenly felt vulnerable, exposed, as if the eyes of the world were undressing him, peeling away his outer bodily shell to violate him, appraising him with their harsh judgments. They were asking, in his mind's eye, whether or not he could take on some unknown, impossible task.

_But I…I'm just a Charmander,_ he argued lamely with the shadowy, imaginary onlookers. _I'm not even evolved. I know so many Pokemon who are much stronger than me…I bet all of these guys are! They've been trained, and I never have. I have plenty of weaknesses. So why, by Arceus, why me?_

His eyes must have implored the four other Pokemon in his desperation, for they shrugged and channeled their sympathy to him through their pure, shining eyes as if they understood. So much, he reflected, could be communicated through a Pokemon's gaze. For a moment, he felt a strong love, a strong bond and connection to all creatures of his kind—not Charmanders, but Pokemon as a whole. _We are all one,_ he marveled, admiring the beauty of the world. And then his epiphany was followed by a second revelation. _If there are humans as bad as this one, this girl…there must be the trainers out there who bring up good Pokemon, the people who take care of them, the nurses who breed them…there must be good humans, too…_

The ideas dissipated like a fog into the darkness as Chikorita nodded grimly, though the sense of amazement remained with him. Charmander felt as if he had learned something beyond words and expressions just then, something he could not explain. And so, because he could not form his own, he sat back and listened intently to the leaf Pokemon's words.

"So we think…we think there's more to this human than just plain cruelty…" she declared. "We think she's planning something. Something powerful, and perhaps, knowing her—terribly destructive."

Charmander met her crimson eyes with his own shocked blue ones. One question out of thousands, one insignificant, trivial, yet persistent question, lingered in his mind. Humans had their own unique names, he knew. He had to know what to call this one.

"What's this girl's name?" he inquired.

"Mallie, short for Malira," said Jigglypuff. "Her name is Mallie."


	6. Chapter 6: Intercepted

_Author's Note:_

_Oh hay, it's an update!_

_By the way, I'm sorry for all the changes that I've been making recently. I tend to be a kind of OCD writer, always going back and tweaking little things all over the place. And just so you know, I promise this is going somewhere big. :) I've got a lot of ideas now...duhn duhn duhn..._

_Oh, and I hate to sound like I'm begging for reviews...but please review! It's nice to know that there's somewhere out there reading and thinking about your story, and it's always good to have notes on how to improve. Anyway, hope you enjoy!_

**Chapter Six: Intercepted**

Two days now, counted Squirtle as he peered up into the sky. Two days he had been following Charmander's trail.

The moon perched in the night sky like a giant white dimple, the greatest source of light he could see all around. Bright and round, it spilled silvery light on the ground where he lay, sprinkling the grass with dabs of milky radiance and casting miniature flecks of shadow on the patches of dirt. Squirtle lay back with his shell against the sloping trunk of a tree, his arms folded behind his head as he rested, fighting sleep.

His eyes flickered back and forth contentedly as he rejoiced in the peace and quiet of the night. It was the only time he had to stop and spend time with his own thoughts, to halt his relentless pursuit and enjoy the beauty of the forest. Now, rather than shrill banter, he heard only the sound of the humans' faint snores from only a few yards away. He could spot a corner of the red tent beyond the bushes from where he lay, and if he craned his neck just a bit further to look beyond the bushes, he could distinguish their shadowy forms through the open flap of the door, the thin fabric rippling back and forth in the breeze.

As the humans walked the main path the day before, he had followed after them along the side of the woods, darting between bushes and tree trunks. He didn't dare confront them head-on; when the girl lifted her hand, he had seen that she carried not one Pokeball in her belt, but _five_. He gulped; he knew he stood little chance against that many Pokemon, not to mention that all of them were probably well-trained. He hadn't exactly been preparing for battle all his years in the wild. And if he was knocked out, as he was bound to be, he would lose track of the humans, along with all hopes of finding Charmander.

As the sun approached the horizon and the sky began to darken with swirling hues of orange and purple, the humans had finally stopped at a clearing. They plopped themselves down on a large rock by the side of the road, and Squirtle stopped as well, watching them from behind a tree.

"I wish I had some kind of flying Pokemon!" the girl complained loudly, wiping her forehead in an exaggerated gesture. "Or at least—at _least_ some Pokemon big enough to ride on."

The boy put his arm around her and planted another nauseating kiss on her greasy cheek. Squirtle shuddered, then sprang back to attention as the boy pulled something from the pack he carried on his back—a large piece of fabric and a set of poles of different sizes. He dropped them, and they clattered to the ground with a loud _thunk_. Squirtle frowned, perplexed, and leaned forward to see what they planned to do with the things.

The humans got to work right away as Squirtle gawked at the strange, cumbersome structure they struggled to set up, trying to follow the process. They inserted one pole into another, joined different ones together, hammered them into the ground, and stretched the cloth over the whole thing, talking the whole time. Squirtle's head spun. Somehow the foundation was strong enough, somehow the poles crossed into a X formation at the top, in just the right position for the fabric to spread across it…however it worked, in less than ten minutes, the structure was up.

The humans sighed in satisfaction and stepped back to give Squirtle a full view of the thing. It looked to him like a bulky hunk of cloth on stilts with a zipper door—something they called a tent. It was some makeshift building for them to sleep in, Squirtle realized. The humans unfolded two makeshift beds that looked like tubes of fleece with zippers and threw them inside the tent. As the last rays of sunlight disappeared, they perched themselves on the rock again and gazed up at the night sky, talking. Finally, as they began to yawn with every other word, the humans crawled inside the tent and lay down. It was clever, Squirtle had to admit, all of it. Humans and their inventions…

As he heard their first snores and their soft, rhythmic breathing, it dawned upon him that _now_ was the time for him to make a move. His heart skipped a beat. Yes…now he could sneak into the tent and, while the humans were sleeping, reach into the girl's belt without her notice and take the Pokeball with Charmander…

_Your move, Squirtle._ Steadying his breathing, he tiptoed toward the open doorway and leaned forward ever so slightly to peer inside.

He lurched back instantly, his heart hammering wildly. Curled inside the tent, its furry white tail wrapped around its body, one eye lazily open, scanning the room—was a large Arcanine, sprawled directly in front of its master. Its Pokeball lay next to the boy's sleeping bag, which was pressed tightly against the girl's, both zipped.

Squirtle's heart sank. He had no hope of reaching her Pokeballs. He could only be glad the Arcanine hadn't seen him. He shivered at the thought of those teeth, that trail of flame, licking at his back…that loud bark which would wake its masters and was bound to send the rest of their Pokemon barreling after him…

Dejected, he turned and trudged deeper into the forest, where still he lay awake, thinking of ways to save Charmander. With that Arcanine around, and all those other Pokemon, there was no way he could reach his friend…he would just have to wait for an opportunity, or perhaps follow them all the way to their destination…

He caught a few hours of restless sleep before dawn came, the early morning light rousing him back to the dilemma at hand.

As soon as the humans awakened, a few hours later, they took some time to take down the tent before they started on their way again, Squirtle in hot pursuit. Nothing of note had happened the next day, except that he had to listen to the girl's shrill singing the whole way down the road, each song followed by the boy's thrilled applause and endless compliments. Both of them discussed how she was the greatest trainer ever, and named all the exciting, powerful Pokemon she was bound to capture. Squirtle rolled his eyes. As if she could capture even half of them.

But at night…the truth was that Squirtle was afraid to sleep, afraid that if he awakened one morning even a minute too late, the humans would be gone, gone along with all traces of Charmander. He kept track of the happenings inside the tent with a few quick glimpses as dusk fell, but that Arcanine was always there, pacing back and forth and waiting for anything that could pose a possible threat to its masters. Squirtle knew better than to try again.

Instead, he lay quietly every night, catching short naps whenever he could, whenever the humans stopped and slept themselves. His naps never lasted, luckily—his fitful anxiety always awakened him not long after, calling to him even in slumber. He was always afraid he would wake up too late, though it was unlikely, since the humans loved to sleep in. The few hours of sleep he managed to steal each night were enough; his head was clear, clear as the moon now, and the forest on which it shone.

He loved the forest dearly, loved the sounds of life all around him. Bug Pokemon chirped softly, and the faint call of a Hoothoot reached his ears from the distance. He could hear Rattata and Raticate scampering about in the undergrowth, and below that, if he listened closely enough, the Diglett and Dugtrio shuffling about underground.

He heard something squirming nearby, and the grass parted next to him. Squirtle looked to his side in surprise and propped himself up on one arm as a young Caterpie squiggled through the foliage, its head cocked with curiosity as it studied him.

He smiled. "Hey, little buddy," he greeted softly.

"_Rrrrooww!_" the Caterpie squealed, and with a flash of green darted surprisingly quickly in the other direction. Squirtle watched its yellowish tail disappear under a bramble-covered bush. He suppressed a chuckle. It must have been a young one, easily startled and not having learned yet the ability to speak. His parents, Butterfree, Squirtle was sure, must be teaching him, somewhere in their nest.

_These Pokemon are so free,_ he mused. A strange blend of comfort and wistfulness diffused through his body. He wasn't alone; he was surrounded by wild Pokemon, Pokemon who were his peers, his allies, and his friends. But while he could enjoy the same freedom…his best friend, just a few yards away, could not. No matter how close they stood to each other, he seemed to belong to an entirely different universe. No matter how close Charmander was, Squirtle couldn't rescue him. At least not here, not now.

_I wonder where these humans are going_, Squirtle thought. He rolled onto his back once again. Were they on their way to a Pokemon tournament? He frowned. No, it didn't seem like it. There was an air of laziness about the girl that told him she wasn't in the process of training. And something about the way they were so on guard, the hint of secrecy, and the cruel, over-the-top smugness of the girl, Mallie, unsettled him.

He sighed and settled back against the tree. His ears caught a strain of musical notes. He furrowed his brow and listened. Hardly a Pokemon was awake at this ungodly hour of the night. But somewhere above him, in the dense, leafy branches, the sound drifted to his ears: a mother Pidgeot sang to her young, sleepless Pidgey. A lullaby.

"It's okay, little bird," he heard her croon in the midst of her sweet melody. "You can sleep now. I'll be watching over you. Look up at the night sky, my darling. You see those stars? That moon? Someday, you'll become a great, strong bird, and you'll be able to soar into the sky, into that beautiful world you see now. You'll get to meet that moon, and those stars. Maybe even the sun." She clucked quietly. "_Shhh_…it's all right, my baby. Someday, your wings will grow big and strong, and you'll be able to fly free, my little bird. Free into the sky." He heard the soft caress of feathers against feathers, and the gentle murmur. "But you can sleep now, my baby. I'll protect you."

_Free…into the sky…you can sleep now…I'll protect you, Charmander…_ For Charmander would fly free into the sky someday, too, as a Charizard. Squirtle's thoughts blurred in and out of focus as if they danced through the lens of a kaleidoscope.

He eyed the tent opening again, concentrating in his mind's eye on the single Pokeball that carried his friend. His eyelids drooped, as the sight blended like a mist into reality. He halfheartedly reached an arm forward to touch the Pokeball that he knew existed only in his dreams, only in the imaginary world of the night. He could rest now. The trees rustled above him, the wind swept past the endless blades of grass, and the soft cloak of sleep wrapped its feathery wings around him as he withdrew into the dark safety of his shell, into a world filled with nothing but shadow.

* * *

"_Rrow!_"

The abrupt cry jolted Squirtle from his fidgety-as-ever slumber; his eyes snapped open to a strange muted darkness. Upon hearing the faint chirps of the morning birds and discerning the difference in the shade of his shell—more of a soft brown rather than navy—he realized it was no longer night. He jerked his arms and legs, and with a _pop_ they surfaced from the the shell.

With a tiny jolt of surprise, Squirtle emerged to see the Caterpie he had encountered the night before now perched before him on the dirt, its great black eyes examining him unflinchingly. Its skin was dappled with the first golden rays of dawn, grazing the Pokemon with their subtle warmth and kissing the dewdrops on the grass. Squirtle grinned. It seemed the bug Pokemon had overcome its fear and had decided to come back for more.

"Thanks for the wake up call," he quipped with a yawn.

"_Roww._ Yowrr…youwrr welcorrrm," the Caterpie replied, scrunching up its face with the effort.

"Hey!" Squirtle exclaimed. "You…you can speak! Or at least you're learning, anyhow…"

"_Rrowwrroww._" The Caterpie nodded and spun around in a circle.

"Ha, good job, I'm glad you can talk!" Squirtle punched his fist in the air, then lowered his arm sheepishly. "Oh…and sorry for scaring you last night. I didn't mean to startle you."

"_Rroww-ow._ Irrt's okrrray." The Caterpie beamed and bounced up and down enthusiastically.

As his mind awakened to match his body's alertness, Squirtle cast a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure the tent was still there. Sure enough, he spotted the hump of red cloth and the bottoms of the two humans' sleeping bags peeking through the doorway. He breathed a quick sigh of relief and turned back to the Caterpie. "So…where are you fr—"

"_ROW!_" Without warning, the Caterpie leaped almost a foot in the air, its eyes bulging, and scuttled away at top speed. Squirtle raised his arm to call after it, but before any sound escaped his throat, the bug Pokemon had disappeared under the bushes and out of sight again.

Squirtle scratched his head and frowned. _Did I say something…again?_

As if answering his question, with a soft tap, a Pidgey hopped down from the tree and alighted on the grass in front of him. It ruffled its feathers and squinted its beady eyes at Squirtle. They gleamed with a mild accusation, as if asking, _What did you do with that tasty treat that was here a moment ago?_

"Sorry," Squirtle muttered with a grin. "That wasn't my fault."

The Pidgey regarded him suspiciously for a few moments more, then seemed to decide that the strange blue Pokemon wasn't worth its effort. It swiveled its head to the side and lovingly caressed its own tawny feathers with its beak. As he watched the bird preen itself with the utmost care, Squirtle sighed and leaned back into the bark. It was another young one, clearly, another Pokemon who could only watch the world around it for now and could not yet utter a single word to express the meanings and desires that throbbed deeply in the heart of every Pokemon.

Squirtle stirred to attention at the sound of a loud yawn from within the tent. He sprang to his feet and sidled past the Pidgey toward the bushes at the edge of the clearing. Eyes narrowed, he grasped the branches and peered through the leaves. He caught the sounds of still-sleepy murmurs and the rustle of fabric beyond the doorway of the tent, and minutes later, the girl emerged, beaming and stretching her arms.

She stopped all of a sudden, her eyes flashing as they alighted on the oblivious bird Pokemon. "Hey! Hey, look, it's a Pidgey!" she exclaimed, her voice hushed. A nasty grin spread across her face as she reached into her belt. "Finally! That flying Pokemon I always wanted!"

As she raised the Pokeball in her outstretched hand, Squirtle gasped in horror. "No—" he started, and then stopped himself mid-warning. The humans would hear him if he tried to warn the Pidgey, and he _couldn't_ risk being discovered by them. He bit his lip and sent a silent plea to Arceus instead. _Please…please don't let her get the Pidgey…the poor guy doesn't deserve it…_

The Pidgey was turned the other way, its head still buried in its feathers, completely oblivious to the danger that had suddenly befallen it. Squirtle inched forward, reaching for the Pidgey's legs. If he could only get close enough…to startle it into flight, into the sky, where the girl couldn't get to it…

"_PIDGIEEEW!_" The deafening screech echoed through the sky, shaking the still forest to its roots. Squirtle dropped to the ground, clamping his hands over his ears. The girl gasped and dropped the Pokeball, her eyes huge with fear. She turned and raced toward the tent.

The massive mother Pidgeot swooped down toward her like a bullet from the sky, and with a great cloud of feathers, her talons grazed the human girl's head. A great gust of wind bore down upon them as she careened upward again, flattening Squirtle's body against the grass. Mallie screamed.

"GET AWAY FROM MY CHILD!" the Pidgeot roared, though the human could understand none of it. "MY BABY! HOW—DARE—YOU—LAY—YOUR FILTHY HANDS—ON HIS FEATHERS!" The mother's eyes gleamed ferociously, the crest on her head streaming in the wind like a bright, rippling banner. She punctuated every word with a vicious peck. Mallie's face reddened as she struggled to cover her head with her hands, tears pooling down her cheeks.

"Robert!" she wailed. "Robert! _Heeeeelp!_"

The boy poked his head out from the tent. His jaw dropped, and he let out an astonished howl as he took in the bizarre scene before him. He gestured wildly toward the girl. "_Mallie, get in here! Quick! Get inside!"_

She barreled into the tent, screaming and flailing her arms like no tomorrow—and still, the Pidgeot followed ruthlessly, her talons tearing the tent fabric to shreds in one sweep with a loud, horrible ripping noise. Like ribbons, the fragments of cloth twirled in midair and fluttered toward the ground.

Squirtle watched, hypnotized, as both boy and girl screamed and clutched each other in terror. "_Whoa_," he murmured to himself.

"RUN! JUST RUN, MALLIE!" Robert hollered. Stooping down, he hauled their sleeping bags from the remaining floor of the tent and struggled to grab hold of her arm with his other hand. His balance didn't hold; he stumbled forward and let go of her. She shoved him forward and staggered after him, bawling and cursing. And _still_ the Pidgeot chased them, all the while screaming insults after them.

"That'll teach you!" she shrieked, beating her wings against their backs. With a burst of adrenaline, Squirtle dashed out from behind the bushes and sprinted after them.

"Whoa! Waiiiit! Waiiiiiiiiiiit!" Squirtle panted as they receded into the distance. "Wait up! Stop!" He scrambled as quickly as his legs would carry him over the crumbly mat of leaves, jumping over logs and tree roots and dodging the low-hanging branches of trees. The humans, with legs longer than his, were outrunning him, sprinting away. "It's my friend you're taking with you! Stop!"

As he clambered over a particularly large log, a searing pain suddenly engulfed his lungs. Squirtle fell back, choking, his eyes filling with tears. Everything was black around him; he couldn't see, couldn't move…he clutched his stomach and crumpled to the ground as his body shook with hacking coughs that seemed to burn through his very insides. Nauseating chills danced through his body; he doubled over and retched at the foul stench that filled his nostrils. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he retreated into his shell, still coughing and twitching.

Squirtle didn't know how much time passed as he simply lay there, his throat convulsing. When he peered out of his shell and opened his eyes but a crack, they burned with agony—he saw nothing but an endless black cloud of fog which seemed to have swallowed him. _Wha—what happened?_ It hurt even to ask the question, to think. When he tried to remember the humans, his mind blurred, and a wave of nausea threatened to rise up inside him. He fought it down with all his might and promised not to think again; it hurt to do anything but curl up inside his shell and wait.

In his reeling state of consciousness, he slowly became aware of voices, murmuring voices muffled by his shell. They stretched and undulated in his head as he struggled to hold on to his wakefulness.

_Thunk thunk._ The sides of the shell vibrated as, Squirtle realized dully, someone was tapping on the outside. He squeezed his eyes shut and curled himself even more tightly within.

_Thunk. Thunk. THUNK._

"_Wha…_" he murmured sleepily.

_THUNK!_

"Enough! All RIGHT!" Aggravated, Squirtle thrust his head out of the shell, a glare plastered across his face. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. "All right, what do you want?"

His voice trailed away at the sight that confronted his eyes. Blinking in surprise, Squirtle took a step back and shook himself out of his stupor to take in his surroundings. He had stumbled under a large oak tree and was sprawled next to its trunk, its branches dipping above his head. Standing before him was a semicircle of Pokemon all gathered around him, peering at him curiously. A tentative hint of concern glimmered in their eyes. The two parties warily sized each other up, keeping their distance.

"A-are you all right?" a Vileplume ventured finally, stepping forward.

Squirtle cocked his head to the side. "Uh…I think so…? What's going on? What just happened?"

"Uh…" A deep, slow voice thrummed to his left, and an oddly shaped ball of purple drifted up to him. A skull-and-crossbones symbol was imprinted on its chest. The dopey-looking Koffing grinned sheepishly and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry…that would be my fault. We saw some humans running by, so I let out the usual alarm—some poison gas, to throw 'em off. Didn't know there was a Squirtle there, too. Really sorry 'bout that."

"Um…" Squirtle coughed again, expelling the last of the reeking gas. "It's all right…"

"Here." A high-pitched, perky voice rang out from the middle of the group. A young Eevee bounded forward and extended her hand out to him, her fluffy tail waving in the air. "Need a hand?"

"Th-thanks." Squirtle took her paw and she pulled him to his feet. He brushed himself off and took in a few gulps of the much-needed fresh air, savoring its clean taste.

As his mind and body cleared, a sudden panic gripped him, and he lunged forward. Bewildered, the Eevee tried to grab his arm, but he shook her off.

"No! I can't stay!" he yelped, shaking. "You guys saw those humans run by, right? Which way did they go? How far do you think they've gotten by now?" His breathing quickened to a frenzied pant. "Oh, _no!_ I need to catch up with them! I need to!" His heart racing, he dashed forward toward the road.

"Hey!" the Eevee exclaimed. "Where're you going?"

"Sorry, I can't stay!" Squirtle gasped, shaking his head blindly. "I need to go! I need to find those humans!"

"Whoa, whoa, wait!" The Eevee cocked an eyebrow and glanced back. "Bulbasaur…" she said.

As he ran, Squirtle suddenly felt something that felt like two ropes close around his chest—he flailed his arms blindly and stumbled to the ground. His chin smashed against the dirt, but he barely noticed the pain.

"No! No! Charmander!" he screamed. "_CHAAAAAAARMANDEERRRRRR!_"

His fingers scrabbled desperately on the dirt for something to grab onto—a rock, a log, even a tuft of grass—as he struggled painfully to cling to the soil and pull his weight forward on his hands and knees. He coughed and wheezed, but he thought of nothing else as he crawled forward, each inch an immense wave of agony. Squirtle threw back his head and yelled in dismay as the Bulbasaur's vines tightened around his chest and firmly dragged him backward.

"NOOOO!" he howled, stretching his arm forward as his stomach scraped against the ground. "NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"Oh, no, he's gone crazy!" a fourth voice sighed.

"Calm down!" the Vileplume snapped. "Don't make me stun you!"

"You're not strong enough!" the Eevee protested. "Squirtle, stop it! Stop! Just stop!"

"_Bulbaaaaaaa…_" the Bulbasaur strained through clenched teeth.

"LET GO OF ME!" Squirtle roared, fighting the vines. "LET GO! I NEED—TO FIND—CHARMANDER!"

"Stop it!" He felt a sharp slap that sent his head reeling. A Mudkip, the fourth Pokemon, had whipped its tail across his forehead. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but stop, so we can help you! You need more time to recover from the poison…"

"I'm—fine!" Squirtle gritted his teeth. "Just—let—me—go, Bulbasaur! _Please_!"

"I hate to break it to you, buddy…" the Koffing said apologetically, "but those humans must be _long_ gone by now. _Long_ gone."

"No!" Tears sprang into Squirtle's eyes as he momentarily stopped struggling. "They can't be! You've got to let me go so I can follow them!" But in the one moment he had let go, Bulbasaur had managed with some effort to yank him back in line with the others. The bulb Pokemon retracted his vines and stared at him with sympathy.

"I'm sorry I had to do that," Bulbasaur told him solemnly. "But you're still weak. You _have_ to rest."

A tear spilling down his cheek, Squirtle slumped to the ground, all the fight gone out of him. He lay on his stomach as misery engulfed him; he felt small, weak, _pathetic_. Everything they said was true, he knew it. His chances of finding Mallie and Robert again were slim, and his body did still ache horrendously from both the poison and the fight with Bulbasaur.

He buried his face in his arms. Why did that Pidgeot and that Koffing have to come along ruin everything? But he knew it wasn't their fault—it was his. He shouldn't have let that Pidgey distract him. He should have kept going. He had done so well in the past two days, keeping track of their every move! And now, all his efforts were as good as gone…and worse, he had broken his promise to his best friend. _I'm so sorry, Charm…_

"Charmander…" he whimpered, as more tears followed the first and splattered silently to the ground, painting dark, wet circles on the dust. "I'm so sorry…"

He heard a _pop_ next to his right ear and turned limply. Something had poked out of the dirt directly next to his head.

"_Diglett_?" queried a small voice. The mole Pokemon gazed at him curiously, its mouth sagging into a frown. "Aww…are you all right?"

Squirtle turned away. Sighing, he slowly, slowly, dragged himself to his feet. The other Pokemon watched him from a few feet with sad eyes glowing with sympathy, allowing him some measure of space. The Diglett slid through the dirt to join them. As Squirtle met their eyes, the Eevee stepped forward and approached him.

"Look," she murmured gently, laying a paw on his shoulder, "I'm really sorry, Squirtle, whatever is wrong. We were only trying to help you back there." She swallowed. "I can't say we really know how we can help you solve your problem, but hey, we're all Pokemon here. We're all in this together."

At those words, Squirtle looked up at her in surprise. It sounded like something _he_ would say; in fact, it sounded like words he had already thought to himself many, many times. He listened, ears perked, as the Eevee continued.  
"I don't know how much we can do, but together, we've all agreed to at least _try_ to help you." A shy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "And I know we didn't really meet under the best of circumstances…but…but that doesn't mean we can't become friends, right?" She held out her paw tentatively, waiting.

Squirtle regarded her curiously as thoughts raced through his mind. Something about these Pokemon gave him a positive feeling, especially this Eevee. And he couldn't easily find Charmander on his own, now…but perhaps having a group of friends, no matter how raggedy, would help. He had made a promise, after all. _And I intend to keep it…_

He took the Eevee's hand and shook it. "Yes. Friends."

The Eevee beamed. "All right! That's fantastic." Her tail waved merrily in the air as she turned over her shoulder and beckoned toward the others. "In that case, Squirtle, you deserve a proper introduction."

As the others gathered around her, she smiled and pointed to herself. "I'm Tawny. This"—she gestured at the Vileplume—"is Pluma." The Vileplume waved. "That dopey ol' Koffing back there, that's Hak. The Mudkip is Kippy." Kippy bounced up and down, grinning. "And Diglett and Bulbasaur, well, I guess they just go by Diglett and Bulbasaur." She chuckled. "All of us, we're a bunch of wild Pokemon who found each other one way or the other…sometimes in very strange ways. But no matter what, we stick together, and we look out for one another. We're a team, and more than that—we're a team of friends."

_Sounds like me and Charmander,_ Squirtle mused.

"So what's your story?" Tawny asked him, her black eyes twinkling. "Do you have a special name?"

"Er…" Squirtle shrugged, scratching his head. "Not really, I guess. I'm just…Squirtle."

"Okay…Squirtle." She grinned. "I like it. You can be like Diglett and Bulbasaur back there. Nickname-less."

"Yay!" Diglett squeaked.

"But more importantly," Tawny continued, more serious now, "why are you out here? What is it that you're looking for? I…I can tell you're looking for _something_."

Squirtle sighed, and his shoulders drooped again. He looked from face to face, wondering whether he could trust these Pokemon. Hak, who had apologized so earnestly for attacking him. Pluma and Kippy, who had tried to stop him from hurting himself, and Bulbasaur, who had been the one to pull him back. And most of all…Tawny, the Eevee who had reached her hand out to him, and promised, _promised_, to help him. He remembered her words, his words—_We are all wild Pokemon. We are all in this together_—and his choice was made.

He nodded. "I am. I'm looking for my best friend…my best friend in the world…his name is Charmander. He was captured by a human not so long ago, a few days, in fact. And his new masters are those humans who just went by."

A collective gasp rose from the five Pokemon. "Oh, those humans!" Pluma exclaimed. "They seemed especially nasty! The worst kind!"

"No wonder you wanted to go after them!" Kippy added fiercely.

Squirtle sighed. "Yeah…I know…they don't seem like good people at all. And they have my friend!" He clenched his hands into fists, and his voice climbed to a passionate shout. "I _have_ to save him, guys! I have to get him out of that Pokeball and back into the forest where he belongs! He…he means more to me than anyone in the world, you know…you've got to understand!"

Bulbasaur studied him with his ruby eyes, and then he drew forward and inclined his head. "Yes. We do understand. The friendship between two Pokemon is one of the strongest bonds in the world. If I were to lose one of the others…" His voice trailed off, and he held out a clawed hand. "Squirtle…I swear that I'll do everything I can to help you find your friend."

A brown-furred paw rested on top of Bulbasaur's. "We _all_ will," Tawny declared resolutely, her dark eyes gazing into his. Squirtle watched with a rising sense of hope as each of the other Pokemon nodded and asserted their determination to help him, adding their hands (or their heads, in Diglett's case) to the stack.

"Wow, guys…really?" he marveled, hardly daring to believe the solid friendships he had just forged, and hardly daring to believe what his new friends would do for him.

"Of course," Tawny answered firmly. "Pokemon have got to help each other out. It's the right thing to do. From this day on, we go forward together…as friends."


End file.
